#coulda fooled me
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etoilesdeglace Ā· 1 year ago
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"Well you know the first thing you gotta do is determine if it's a right angle triangle or not"
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bagel--bytes Ā· 6 days ago
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Someone help I canā€™t stop taking photos of my gorgeous Rook
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juveneil Ā· 11 months ago
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no because my neil josten sim has a fear of death
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hurt-you Ā· 2 years ago
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geordie shore is the british jersey shore its amazing
yā€™all got shores in england??
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tswwwit Ā· 1 year ago
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Here's the second part of Cult Reincarnation Dipper!
The first part is over Here if you missed it.
Hope you enjoy!
ā€œHere we are!ā€ Bill says brightly. He nods approvingly at the room, then glances back at Dipper. ā€œGlad you didnā€™t take off running during the trip.ā€
How Dipper could have managed that, he isnā€™t sure. The instant they appeared in this place, Bill took hold of Dipperā€™s wrist and hasnā€™t let go even once.Ā 
The nightmare realm is exactly as advertised. Dipperā€™s been pulled through mazelike corridors, up and down impossible hallways, over insane physic-defying structures - and past things with too many teeth and eyes.Ā 
He thinks heā€™s been holding up pretty well, all things considered.Ā 
Being dragged by a nightmare god into his realm of dreams for unknown reasons wasnā€™t exactly on his bucket list. Without any helpful explanations, or even unhelpful ones, heā€™s stayed calm and followed along.Ā  Remaining obedient, keeping quiet, and waiting in hopes of Bill either giving up, or giving him any indication of where the hell they are and what the fuck heā€™s doing.
Now theyā€™ve arrived, and the destinationā€¦ isnā€™t exactly encouraging.
Dipper looks over the gleaming instruments hung on the walls. The needles and scalpels and hooks. He drops his gaze towards the white paper on the chair, at the poorly hidden restraints.
A place of insanity and terror, owned by a king of nightmares, dragging along a vulnerable human with a badly injured arm. Of course heā€™d end up in a house of medical horrors. Itā€™s too thematically appropriate.
So yeah. Dipperā€™s been holding on fine. Only his legs have decided theyā€™ve had enough for the day, and given up.Ā 
His robes puddle around him as he hits the floor. The tileā€™s very cold and sterile under his legs, and his arm trembles in Billā€™s unwavering grip.Ā Ā 
ā€œHey! What gives?ā€ Bill tugs on Dipperā€™s wrist again. Thankfully not hard enough to haul him to his feet.Ā 
Dipper shakes his head. The floorā€™s fine. Heā€™ll stay right here, thank you very much. Trying to retrieve his wrist doesnā€™t work, but he makes a good show of it.
ā€œNice try,ā€ Bill says, dryly. ā€œBut thereā€™s no escaping! Now get on up and have a seat already.ā€Ā 
For the first time, his grip loosens. Dipper yanks his arm towards his chest, attempts to stumble to his feet. His legs fail to cooperate, sliding out in front of him like heā€™s putting up a tantrum rather than an escape attempt.
With a quick snort, Bill ducks down and tucks his hands under Dipperā€™s arms. A moment later he lifts Dipper bodily into the air, and appraises him with a smile.
Dipper kicks out in surprise, struggling for purchase - then lets his legs dangle in the air, limp. Flailing around isnā€™t going to help. Odds are itā€™d make things worse.Ā 
If there was ever a mistake Dipper shouldnā€™t make, it would be accidentally whacking a god in the groin.Ā 
Bill bounces him in his grip a couple times, with a pleased smile, and seemingly zero effort. The human form heā€™s wearing isnā€™t bulky; heā€™s just stronger than he appears. Dipper should have guessed as much. Heā€™s in the demon realm, brought here - kidnapped by -Ā  an eldritch, too-powerful being. Any resistance he puts up is as much of a shield as tissue paper.Ā 
With a nod, Bill turns a full ninety degrees, and drops him directly into the chair. The leather of the seat creaks underneath Dipper as he hits it, and he instantly straightens up, back rigid.
ā€œThere we are.ā€ Bill smirks with satisfaction. He points directly at Dipperā€™s face with a sudden frown. As it comes closer, Dipper leans as far back as he can manage.Ā  ā€œNow stay. Put.ā€
The tone is very firm, and, well. Obedience is the name of the game, when it comes to a ā€˜godā€™.Ā Ā 
Dipper simply nods. Bill beams again, then retreats to start pulling drawers open, rustling through them and muttering to himself.Ā 
Whatever heā€™s up to, Dipper doesnā€™t care to guess. From what he can tell, the entire room is made for easy cleaning, and the objects donā€™t lend him any comfort. Tons of gleaming instruments hang on hooks and boards, pale metal against white walls.Ā  The soaked sleeve of his robe is leaving little dots on the seat and armrests. Every spot of red stands out so brightly in this sterile white environment.
Dipper clutches his arm to his chest again. Not budging. Just as he was told. Thereā€™s a thin prickle of sweat building on his skin.Ā 
A sound catches his attention, and he glances up at Bill, whoā€™s wearing a big, bright grin. Heā€™s holding something glass in one hand, and a glint of metal in the other.
Dipper keeps trying to maintain pressure on his wound. Billā€™s approaching without even a hint of hesitation - without being able to talk, he simply shakes his head again and again. Heā€™s fine, this is great, they can go anywhere else, just donā€™t -Ā 
ā€œWhat?ā€ Bill cocks his head to the side, and grins again. ā€œEasy, I donā€™t bite! Much.ā€
He has very sharp teeth, Dipper notices. With how human that form is, he hadnā€™t paid much attention to the details.Ā 
The white of his smile has fangs.Ā 
ā€œYeesh, tense much?ā€ Bill raises an eyebrow, carelessly dropping a metal box in Dipperā€™s lap. The other one shows the glass to be a corked bottle - small, round and filled with greenish liquid. Bill starts shaking it rapidly, beckoning with his free hand. ā€Gimme that arm, already.ā€
When Dipper doesnā€™t move, Bill slowly pries his arm away from his chest. He pushes it down onto the armrest - and before Dipper can react, the makeshift bandage of his robes is ripped off at the elbow, leaving him bare.Ā 
Dipper watches the blood trickling down over the seat with a nauseating flip in his stomach. He can look away - does, quickly - but worse, heā€™s oddly embarrassed. Everything in here was so pristine before he started leaking on things.
ā€œEh, could be worse.ā€ Bill chimes in over Dipperā€™s thoughts. A brief glance shows heā€™s evaluating the wound; he waggles a hand in a so-so gesture. ā€œDecent blood flow, but damage-wise? Youā€™ll be wielding a knife yourself in no time!ā€
God, what a weird thing to say. Dipper half-shrugs in response.Ā 
He hopes Billā€™s right, though. Not the knife-wielding, but that itā€™s not too bad. It certainly feels bad, but Dipper doesnā€™t have enough experience to tell how, or if, heā€™ll recover. Heā€™s never seen a sacrifice, with a person, that called for that much blood. Especially one that got soā€¦ enthusiastic.Ā Ā 
Or perhaps there was, and Dipper just looked away, like he always does. Heā€™s never had the stomach for this sort of thing. Hell, he still doesnā€™t; as Bill gets settled, Dipper turns and starts counting all the knives on the walls.Ā 
Yep. Thereā€™s definitely a lot of them. So many, and none of them are in Billā€™s hand at the moment. He tries to focus on that as well. The box in Dipperā€™s lap is too small to contain anything but the tiniest of the scalpels, too. Another good sign, if heā€™s feeling optimistic.
Thereā€™s the sound of something uncorking. Then, liquid dripping down Dipperā€™s arm and over his wrist, a bright, sparking sting - he grits his teeth, ready for the pain to build, and feels -Ā 
Nothing?
Dipper blinks. Heā€™s lost count of the knives, but he does get an excellent view of the empty bottle sailing across the room, and shattering on the opposite wall. Quickly followed by the cork, with a spitting sound; Bill probably pulled it out with his teeth.Ā 
Thereā€™s a vague prod. Dipper cringes on reflex, shoulders tensing. The next one feels firmer, and not in a great place, but.Ā 
It doesnā€™t hurt at all.Ā 
Well, no. It does, a little. If Dipper clenches his arm and makes a fist, he can feel a kind of stingĀ  - and hear Bill mutter under his breath. So he probably shouldnā€™t do that. But other than that faint ache, the pain is gone, leaving a chill semi-numbness in its place.Ā 
Beside him, Bill makes a satisfied sound. He flips open the box in Dipperā€™s lap, pulls something out - then starts doing something weird to his arm.Ā 
Dipper feels a pinch, then a tugging sensation. He sucks in a breath.
ā€œHold still, already.ā€ Billā€™s grip tightens, holding him in place. Dipper can tell because when moves his fingers again, he can just about tickle the underside of his arm. ā€œHey! Whatā€™d I just say!ā€
Dipper stops moving. Obedient, definitely. Totally not questioning what the hell is happening to his flesh, or worried at all. He only flinches a bit at the repeated pinch-tug-pinch, running a line down his arm.Ā 
With the numbness, itā€™s easy to focus on breathing in, and out, in a steady rhythm. Passing time, until Billā€™s done with his gruesome work.
ā€œThere we go.ā€ Bill stands up, wiping his hands clean on a bright white cloth. He offers Dipper another easy grin. ā€œNot too shabby, am I right?ā€
Dipper hesitates, but. Heā€™s going to have to face the damage at some point. Might as well be now, while heā€™s still numb and lightheaded.Ā 
First, he sees Bill, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Then the arm itself, looking pale and small, with a long, thin line of stitches running up the wound.Ā 
No mutations, no mutilations. Just clean, closed skin.
Wow, that was a big cut. It didnā€™t really hit him until he saw it sewn up.Ā 
Dipperā€™s no expert on medical anything, but it must be decent work; Bill looks pleased with himself, for one, and the stitches themselves are neatly placed in even lines. Weirder still - it hasnā€™t been tinkered with, or experimented on at all.
Bill not-too-gently pats his wrist again, before wrapping Dipperā€™s entire forearm in bright white gauze. He hums to himself as he works. Just as he snips off the bandage with a pair of scissors, he pauses.Ā 
ā€œHm, kinda missing something,ā€ Bill mutters, almost to himself. Then his expression brightens, and he snaps his fingers. ā€œAha!ā€
Dipper winces at the full-palm slap on his wrist. Ow. Even numbed, that stung.Ā 
ā€œThere! All patched up.ā€ Bill says. He sets his fists on his hips, looking triumphant. ā€œWhatā€™dā€™ya think, kid?ā€
Dipper looks down, and stares. Heā€™s not really sure how heā€™s supposed to react.
Instead of taping the bandages in place, Billā€™s smacked on a sticker. One of Bill himself, triangular-formed, and giving a disproportionately big thumbs-up.Ā 
ā€œAhem.ā€ Bill clears his throat.
When Dipper checks, that seemingly eternal grin has popped right back into place. Expectant. Almost prompting.Ā 
Come to think of it - itā€™s the exact same one Dipper saw after the ritual, not that long ago.
The one that he still doesnā€™t know how to answer.Ā 
Dipper pulls his arm up, holding it close. He touches the bandages carefully, tracing down the line of his wound. All his fingers still work. All his skin seems to have stayed in place. Even the numbness has lingered well past the actual procedure.Ā 
Bill Cipher himself, lord of chaos and nightmares, had a hold of a wounded piece of mortal meat. And as far as Dipper can tell, nothingā€™s missing, nothingā€™s mangled, and it doesnā€™t even hurt.Ā 
Of all the things Dipper imagined about meeting Bill Cipher - and he can imagine a lot more things than the average guy -Ā 
This would never have made the list.Ā 
Bill hasnā€™t said anything. For a while now. Enough time has passed that the silence has grown awkward, because really Dipper should have done something by now, damn it. There has to be -Ā 
ā€œOh, right!ā€ Bill breaks the silence with a snap of his fingers. His eye rolls; he even smacks himself on the side of the head in a ā€˜dang, canā€™t believe I forgotā€™ gesture. ā€œMajor bloodloss! No human brain works great when itā€™s improperly irrigated.ā€Ā 
Whichā€¦ is true, sure. Dipper does feel pretty woozy, but more likely Billā€™s referring to not getting a response.Ā 
Thatā€™s one thing he can fix, sort of. Dipper tries another smile. Hesitant, but not forced.Ā 
Bill just raises an eyebrow. ā€œYeah, yeah, youā€™re cute. Donā€™t think flaunting it gets you anywhere.ā€
Dipper lets his smile drop.Ā 
Okay, what? That was not what he was going for, and - and it doesnā€™t make sense, anyway. Bill must have meant something else, because heā€™s not cute. Kind of a condescending thing to call a guy whoā€™s just showing heā€™s grateful.
Even though he should know better, Dipper flashes an irritated glance at this idiot godā€™s face.Ā  He folds his arms, letting out a huff.
And Bill lunges in with startling speed.Ā 
Dipper jerks back in the chair only for Bill to follow, face inches away, sharp teeth bared in a wide smile. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and his single eye narrows.Ā 
With rising tension, Dipper notes that said eye is actually glowing. Thereā€™s intent there, focused and strange - and even worse, the slow stir of magic building between them.
This is what he gets, isnā€™t it. For being a huge goddamned idiot, and insolent, and why did he do that of all-
ā€œBoop.ā€ Bill taps Dipperā€™s nose, and stands back up. As if to add insult to incoherence, he also pinches Dipperā€™s cheek. ā€œNow! Upsy-daisy, kid! We gotta get you settled in!ā€
Dipper remains seated, even as Bill claps his hands and gestures for him to rise. At one point he even leans over and taps his thighs, in a deeply condescending beckon. If it wouldnā€™t be suicidally insane, Dipper would flip him off for that.Ā 
How is Dipper not dead yet. How is he not insane yet. This doesnā€™t make sense.Ā 
Nothing here makes sense.Ā 
But then, maybe Dipper should have expected that. Nightmare logic aside, heā€™s dizzy and tired, and itā€™s hard to keep figure out whatā€™s insane demon-god stuff, what heā€™s simply lost track of.
Waiting for too long has had its consequences, of course. For the second time in an hour, Dipper gets hauled up by a too-strong monster. This time, heā€™s set on his feet pretty shortly, instead of being swung around like some kind of carnival prize.
Dipper hits the ground as Bill drops him, and stumbles. The world spins around him, and he nearly drops to the floor again until he braces himself on the closest solid-looking object.
The object moves under his arm. Above him, he hears loud, pleased laughter. ā€œAw, getting touchy, are we?ā€
Dipper stares at his arm, braced against a firm chest - then up at Billā€™s wide grin. Then down again, where heā€™s wrinkling Billā€™s shirt.
Shit. Wrong choice. Bad choice - but there wasnā€™t much of a choice! If Dipper didnā€™t want to fall on his ass, he had to grab something.
ā€œI know, I know. Iā€™m too tempting to resist.ā€ Bill says, sounding eminently amused. Almostā€¦ teasing? He takes Dipper by the shoulder, turning him around towards the door. ā€œLetā€™s get outta here.ā€
Wherever ā€˜hereā€™ is. Wherever theyā€™re going is even more worrying.
Still, Bill doesnā€™t seem mad about the invasion of his personal space. Or anything else, weirdly enough. Maybe Dipperā€™s misinterpreting the signs; he wouldnā€™t be the first worshiper to do so.Ā 
Mystery is part and parcel of Bill Cipher, one of his core essences. No part of him is uncomplicated or simple, because he loves making things difficult. Thereā€™s supposed to be puzzles, layered over each other in complex ways to obscure the truth. Every time Bill talks to one of the devout, it requires careful interpretation -Ā 
But there are too many possibilities, and Dipperā€™s too disoriented to keep up with any double-talk.Ā Ā 
Bill opens the door into another black-red brick corridor. It looks like it could go anywhere, and everything about it screams ominous.
In a particularly stupid move - though one born of self-preservation - Dipper shoves himself into Billā€™s grasp. He grips the shirt, hip bumping against the god, and Bill makes a quiet sound of surprise.
For a heartstopping moment, Dipper knows heā€™s fucked up.
Then the arm comes around him, and pulls him in tight. Squeezing his shoulder, then dropping around his waist, hand loosely holding his hip.
ā€œGood choice, sapling! Your fleshy human vestibular sense is for shit, and I didnā€™t patch you up just to watch you break your skull on the ground.ā€Ā  Bill chucks Dipper under the chin with a knuckle and winks. ā€œIf I wanted a corpse, I could get those anywhere.ā€
Whichā€¦ makes a terrifying kind of sense.
Billā€™s right, of course. Heā€™s an immensely powerful god-creature, who can reach in between worlds, given the opportunity. He commands dreams, and people, and an all-consuming amount of magic.Ā 
If he wanted a corpse, he could have one in moments. And if he wanted it to be Dipperā€™s, all he really had to do wasā€¦ nothing.
As Bill pulls him into the hallway, Dipper checks his wrist again. He flexes his fingers, and sticks close to his ā€˜godā€™.Ā 
His armā€™s a little achy, as the numbness begins to fade. The gauze is tight enough to feel comforting rather than constraining, clean and wrapped with obvious care. Even with the slight pain, it feels like heā€™s going to heal up just fine.
And though itā€™s incredibly stupid, the super cheesy sticker does kind of make him feel better.Ā 
Obviously Bill likes Dipperā€™s blood. He said as much during the summon; that itā€™s ā€˜very niceā€™. Likely itā€™s the reason Dipper was kidnapped in the first place.Ā 
But instead of juicing him like an orange, Bill took pains to keep all of it inside.
ā€œAs long as weā€™re stopping you from kicking the bucket,ā€ Bill snaps his fingers. A small, squarish carton appears, and he holds it in front of Dipper. ā€œYou might wanna drink this.ā€
Dipper grimaces atā€¦ whatever this is. He canā€™t read the language, but itā€™s decorated with a smiling thing that could be either a heart, or a severely mutated fruit.
He glances up at Bill again, but no explanation is forthcoming. He merely waggles the carton around again, nearly shoving it into Dipperā€™s chest.
Welp. A ā€˜godā€™ has ordered him to consume something. Obedience, right, still a virtue. Hell, even if Bill wanted Dipper to swallow liquid mercury, he wouldnā€™t have much of a choice in the matter.
Poison isnā€™t very likely, though. Bill doesnā€™t want a dead body around, and heā€™s put in way too much effort to reverse course now.Ā 
Bill raises an eyebrow, tapping the drink invitingly against his chest. At this point Dipper suspects the lack of explaining is intentional.
Fine, whatever. If heā€™s going to insistā€¦Ā 
Dipper still gives it a skeptical look, but he takes it from Billā€™s hand. Not accepting a godā€™s gift is probably rude. Offending him isnā€™t any more helpful than dehydration.
And though all the advice about dealing with supernatural beings says, ā€˜donā€™t consume what they give youā€™, Bill does have a point. Humans are full of liquid. Dipper lost a decent portion of his own. Filling it back up isnā€™t the worst idea in the universe.
The top twists open, though Dipper doesnā€™t dare glance at the contents. Heā€™ll just shut his eyes and chug.Ā 
He takes several long, deep drinks, tilting his head back. At first to help himself swallow - then more, and eagerly, because holy shit, heā€™s so thirsty. He didnā€™t realize until he started, but he really, really needed this.Ā 
With the portion of his tongue he has left, he tastes a faint sweetness, like strawberries.
ā€œTop up your tank, kid.ā€ Bill gives Dipper another nudge, almost playful. ā€œHumans are basically half-fluid. To go at it like that, you musta been practically mummified!ā€
Weird phrasing seems to be a thing for Bill. Better get used to it.Ā 
Since heā€™s not looking at him, Dipper rolls his eyes and makes a face. Just a quick, two-second expression.Ā 
Beside him, Billā€™s grin inches up a tiny bit. He starts whistling a cheerful tune as he leads them onward.
Itā€™s an indeterminate amount of time before they stop - Bill, fresh and cheerful, Dipper, wondering how much longer he has to be on his feet - but eventually Bill whips around a corner, facing a brown wooden door in the middle of one of the black slate walls.
Great. Another mystery room, and by the look on Billā€™s face - one heā€™s been eager to get to.Ā 
By this point Dipperā€™s pretty sure Billā€™s not about to execute or exsanguinate him At least 90% sure; itā€™s hard to tell when dealing with a being of pure chaos.Ā 
But he still slows his steps as Bill sets his hand on the knob, leaning back into that guiding arm on his waist. Unpredictability has always unnerved him.Ā 
Bill turns towards Dipper with a brilliant smile. ā€œIā€™ve been looking forward to this.ā€ He says, almost conspiratorially. He nudges Dipper forward as he opens the door. ā€œWelcome home, sapling!ā€
With a gust of warm air and a light that leaves Dipper blinking, the door opens.
And with a proud smile, Bill Cipher leads him into the single most luxurious looking room heā€™s ever seen in his life.Ā 
Dipper stares. Maybe gawks a little, but he shuts his mouth quickly.
No matter where he looks, everything oozes rich, sumptuous leisure.Ā 
Thereā€™s paintings, and tapestries, a soft thick black carpet. A huge, soft-looking couch near a fireplace, odds and ends of scattered jewels and technical looking objects on the walls. Thereā€™s even a portrait of Bill himself, in his regular form, with a foot upon the world. Large double doors lead to another room, and though the partly open crack Dipper thinks he spots a bed.
On the second glance around, Dipper catches on. That subtle gleam, that catches his eye, seemingly everywhere - is freakinā€™ gold. Not just the occasional pierce of decoration, either; itā€™s subtly woven into parts of all the decor, thin lines on furniture and doors and even some in the carpet.Ā 
Billā€™s room so far beyond the dark, stoic asceticism of the compound. Miles away. Lightyears.
Why the hell did they have a shitty stone cavern to worship in, if their god lives like this?
No, thatā€™s easily answered -the priest always was a dick.
Dipperā€™s not thrilled about what Bill did to the guy back at the ritual, but heā€™s far from upset.
Beside him, Billā€™s silent. For once heā€™s not shuffling Dipper along anywhere. No prompting, no pushing, no force of any kind -Ā 
But definitely expectant.Ā 
Without Bill saying anything, Dipper can feel his arm tense up with anticipation, awaiting a reaction. Probably something flattering to Billā€™s ego, or worshipful of his presence.
Truth be told, Dipper might have even given one. Despite all his reservations about the chaos god beside him, it is impressive.
But he canā€™t say anything. Thereā€™s nothing to write down a worshipful chant on. Heā€™s tired and hurt and heā€™s been walking what feels like all day. Finding focus is hard.
Dipper scrunches his face up, rubbing at his eyes. Things went all blurry for a second, and he has kind of a headache.Ā 
What does he do, another smile? But Bill said that was ā€˜flauntingā€™. and maybe thatā€™s not great. Another expression, maybe. Some kind of gesture. Body language has a lot of options andā€¦ heā€™s run out of ideas for that. Maybe his brain really is working with too-little fluid.
ā€œHmmā€¦ā€ Bill rubs his chin, glancing at Dipper - then staring out into the room again. His eye narrows.Ā 
Shit, right, this was meant to impress. Dipper, fumbling the devout test for like, the millionth time in his life. Only right now, when it truly matters, heā€™s too messed up to manage even if he tried.Ā 
Before Bill can get too mad, Dipper hunches over. Looking contrite might stave off the worst of it. He can make himself look small.
Thereā€™s a long beat of silence. Then Bill claps him on the shoulder. ā€œNo worries, kid. This ainā€™t my first time with a human wandering in with mortal wounds and a poor sense of grandeur! You can tell me how great I am later.ā€Ā 
The rush of relief Dipper feels is immediately ruined by Bill dragging him forward again. So much for a true reprieve; infinite being of pure energy means never stopping for a second of rest, apparently.
ā€œI got just the thing for a squishy little nervous wreck like you,ā€ Bill says, striding forward confidently towards one of the walls, and a door Dipperā€™s 90% sure wasnā€™t there even three seconds ago. ā€œWeā€™ll stash you here until youā€™re more settled down!ā€
The door opens, and Dipperā€™s led into a small, dark place. He can make out vague, squarish shapes in the dim light. Thankfully none of them look too imposing.Ā 
Another snap, and the room lights up.Ā 
For the second time in about as many minutes, Dipperā€™s totally thrown.
ā€œKitchenā€™s through there, bathroomā€™s thataway,ā€ Bill says, gesturing in the respective directions. He gives Dipperā€™s shoulder a squeeze, jerking his thumb behind himself. ā€œIā€™ll be back out this way if you get bored!ā€
The words run though Dipperā€™s brain, but heā€™s not truly focusing on them. The room heā€™s in has most of his attention. No matter how he looks at it, though, he canā€™t see any traps. It just looksā€¦
Comfy?
The light reveals a smaller room than the living one, and one thatā€™s far less dramatic. None of the tchotkes lying around. Basically zero ostentation. Thereā€™s a wardrobe and a bed, a dark blue carpet rather than the black. A desk, some papers, and an absurdly large and obsessively organized looking bookshelf. The two doors Bill mentioned lie closed, on two different walls.
Dipperā€™s not sure what he was expecting, but. The simpler decoration, the small but cozy setup - none of which fits Billā€™s taste, thatā€™s clear even on a glance. This isnā€™t meant for the god himself.Ā 
Now thereā€™s a question heā€™s never considered before: Does Bill Cipher ever have guests in his realm?Ā 
The answer must be ā€˜yesā€™, strange as it seems. Nothing in here is Billā€™s vibe, but it might fit a human that he needed to stash somewhere.
Beside him, he hears a low hum. Billā€™s hand runs down Dipperā€™s shoulder, onto his back. It strokes down, then up again - then pushes him forward. ā€œEnjoy!ā€
Dipper stumbles a couple steps before catching the footboard of the bed. He leans against it, blinking rapidly.
ā€œNow, I got a quick errand to run, so take your time getting comfy. Cram some calories in, wash your crevices, take a nap. Whatever human stuff needs doing.ā€ Bill looks up from checking his watch, then gives him a wink, backing out of the room with double finger guns pointed. ā€œSee ya soon!ā€
The door closes behind him without even a touch on the knob. The room goes quiet.Ā 
Dipper cocks his head to one side. Billā€™s absence is just as palpable as his presence. That powerful thrum of magic trails into the distance as he heads off, fading in Dipperā€™s senses, like a too-loud stereo speaker in an obnoxious, demonic car.
After a moment, he shucks off his robe - with the sleeve torn off, itā€™s weird and uncomfortable. That leaves him in just soft pants and his undershirt, but thankfully with considerable privacy.
As long as heā€™s here, Dipper does a quick inspection of the room. The bedā€™s bigger than any one heā€™s ever seen, minus the one thatā€™s presumably Billā€™s. The wardrobe contains a baffling array of flannel shirts, in that theyā€™re almost all identical and oddlyā€¦ worn? He shuts the doors with a shrug. Hardly the most intimidating find.Ā 
A thorough overview reveals no traps, no knives. The sharpest thing in the room is the pens. The worst thing that could happen to Dipper here is a papercut. Or maybe stubbing his toe on the heavy furniture.Ā 
Itā€™s been a few minutes. Dipper glances at the door Bill retreated through. Still closed.
He hears no sound from the other room, either. He strains to feel some magic returning, a bloom in his limited senses, but itā€™s calm and quiet.Ā 
Whatever Billā€™s up to, heā€™s long gone.
Leaving Dipper totally unsupervised.
Dipper instantly darts for the opposite door, opening it fast enough that it nearly unbalances him. It swings opens easily, totally unlocked, and he braces himself as he stares -Ā 
Into a kitchen.Ā 
A big one, at that. Lots of cabinets, a fridge, a stove, knives hanging on the wall in what looks like a rather ominous manner, until Dipper remembers thatā€™s where knives are supposed to be. Though maybe not so many of them.
Also, totally not an exit.Ā 
Fine, whatever. They couldnā€™t all be exits, and thereā€™s another to try.
Dipper rushes over to the second door, yanking it open to revealā€¦ exactly what Bill said, again.Ā 
He lingers this time, leaning on the knob. Rubbing at his eyes briefly, in case that ruins the illusion Billā€™s cast. It doesnā€™t have any effect.
Itā€™s - this is way too straightforward. It has to be some type of trick.
Pretty weird for it to be so clean, then.
Any bathroom Bill has should be blood-splattered, or filled with bubbling acid - but this one only smells faintly of bleach. Itā€™s lined with black and white tiling, with a shower that looks overly complicated and a bathtub that could fit several people inside. At least thereā€™s no knives in this room - though Dipper does see a safety razor, resting on the sink. Right next to the cup holding the blue toothbrush.
He slams the second door closed, and takes a deep breath.
Maybe heā€™s disoriented. Maybe Bill turned everything around when he left, like every other corridor in this chaotic place, and maybe if Dipper yanks opens the third door -the one he came through - itā€™ll cleave between the realms, back into the ritual room, where -Ā Ā 
Dipper leans on the doorframe, slowing down his breathing. He shuts his eyes, lips drawing into a thin line.
Or it could just be. Literally the exact same one he came in through.Ā 
Standing in the doorway of Bill Cipherā€™s personal quarters, Dipper frowns at the fireplace. And at the painting over it. Especially at the even more grandiose door that presumably leads to the godā€™s master bedroom. Itā€™s beautiful, alright, Dipper canā€™t argue with that - but also ostentatious, and reeking of smug power.
Itā€™s very quiet inside, too. No motion, no magic.
After a bit of hesitation, he leans his head in, checking both ways.Ā 
No Bill around, at all.Ā 
He must have actually taken off, instead of lying in wait, ready to surpriseā€¦ The person heĀ  told exactly where he could be found. Which isn't much of an ambush, come to think of it.
Dipper lets his arms drop to his sides, then winces and rubs the bandage on his recently stitched one.Ā 
When he came into this place, he had a lot of expectations. All of them were backed up by years of knowledge about Bill Cipher. His likes and dislikes, unpredictability, and his bizarre proclivities.
So far, Dipperā€™s seenā€¦ not a safe place, by a long shot. But way less dangerous than what he thought heā€™d face.
In fact, aside from the trip to get here and parts of the medical experience, this has been way too normal.Ā 
Bill Cipher is a being veiled in mystery, or, depending on your viewpoint, mischief. Never totally meaning what he says, rarely acting like youā€™d think. Even in the most stodgy of ceremonies, the priest had to leave room for the fact that Billā€™s not veryā€¦ conventional. The research Dipper did on his own had similar things to say. Between sermon and study, that alone has been a constant.
Dipper taps his foot on the floor. The carpet remains soft and nonthreatening. The fireplace crackles warmly, and does not consume the room in a terrifying blaze.
What is he supposed to make of all this?
The priest claimed that only he could interpret the subtle signs of Billā€™s true meaning, and what actions to take. He was dead wrong about that. Courtesy of the god he claimed to understand, for that matter.Ā 
The rest of the congregation canā€™t offer any insight, either; theyā€™re back in the compound - but frankly? Dipper wouldnā€™t trust them to interpret a microwave timer, much less their god.
According to scripture, it takes ages of experience, along with deep personal knowledge, to even begin to understand Billā€™s motives. One young human like Dipper would never stand a chance.
But if heā€™s here anywayā€¦
Dipper traces his fingers along the wall, making his way quietly, cautiously, into the room.Ā 
Why not get started? Itā€™s not like he has anything else to do.Ā 
Having something to study will help pass the time, as long as heā€™s here. And with this wealth of information in front of him, who could resist?
As he walks into the place, he doesnā€™t burst into flame, or turn inside out, or get tossed into an eternal void of constant screaming. So, itā€™s probably okay.Ā 
He takes a deep breath, and lets it out. It only shakes a little.Ā 
Besides, navigating around an immortal being of eternal knowledge canā€™t be that different from sneaking around the compound. All evidence so far is that Billā€™s actually friendlier about it.
One thingā€™s pretty certain - heā€™s not likely to obliterate a guy heā€™s just spent several hours getting ā€˜settledā€™. If anything, heā€™s sorta intimated that Dipperā€™s a ā€˜guestā€™. Billā€™s likely not magically bound to the rules of hospitality, but violating them is pretty universally gauche.
The thought makes Dipperā€™s shoulders drop. He pats the wall a couple times, then checks his wrist. The bright yellow triangle stays still, overly-large hand still giving a thumbs-up.
Dipper rolls his eyes. Okay. Thereā€™s one fact learned - Bill Cipherā€™s capable of being kind of a dork.
This could actually be pretty intriguing. Useful, perhaps. In the heart of Billā€™s home, with all of his stuff lying around - like that pile of books near the couch, or that pile of dishes he saw in the sink, or the fact that he even has a guest room, what the hell is with that -Ā 
Dipper can get firsthand information. No more dilapidated scrolls, or censored books, or scrounging around outside to find objective sources.Ā 
Bill Cipher, as far as Dipper can tell, actually lives here. In these exact rooms.Ā 
He can try and hide the truth as much as he likes, or lie to Dipperā€™s face, but he canā€™t hide his living room. Hanging out in your own place is the most authentic anyone can be, god or not.Ā 
With that in mind, Dipper gets to the investigation.
Without context, itā€™s hard to discern what most of the objects around mean. Whether theyā€™re regularly used, or just for display. Until Dipper sees Bill actually interacting with the stuff he has, heā€™ll just file that information away for later.
About three circuits of the living room, Dipper catches sight of the portrait above the fireplace again. The one with Bill himself, crowned and stepping on the world. Scepter in hand, his single eye beholding -Ā 
Ah, right. The eye thing.Ā 
Dipper backs up, very slowly. As a parting gesture, he throws a little wave at the portrait, and another ā€˜cuteā€™ smile.
Then he darts right the hell back into his room, and pulls the door along with him. He lets his head drop back against the wood, and closes his eyes.
Shit. Shit. Of course he wasnā€™t roaming around freely. There was oversight.Ā 
Hopefully Billā€™s busy enough to not have cared about a couple minutes of ā€˜wanderingā€™. As far as he knows, that was, uhā€¦ Dipper got lost, right. That sounds believable. Maybe he was even looking for Bill himself.Ā 
But snooping? No, definitely not. Why would anyone do that.
Welp. Thatā€™s about that, then. Three doors, three results, and zero exits.Ā 
Sure, itā€™s possible that Billā€™s room does have a way out, but between the odds of being caught, and the odds of getting lost in the twisting, recursive corridors if he did manage to find it -
Yeah, Dipperā€™s going to pass.Ā 
He saw the other ā€˜guestsā€™ around this realm, and they didnā€™t look like the types to leave blood on the inside.Ā 
On the upside heā€™s survived the night. Morning. Whatever time of day it is.Ā 
Bill wants Dipper alive, which is strange and confusing and more than a little concerning- but itā€™s also a huge weight off his shoulders.
Dipper turns to pull the door fully closed behind him, then hesitates.Ā 
After debating for a bit, he settles on leaving the door slightly ajar. Hearing when Bill comes back seems like a good idea, while keeping him out doesnā€™t.Ā 
But if Bill were to, say, see a door semi-open and shut it himself, then hey. Kinda his fault for not paying attention. No blame on any humans here.
Ugh, Dipperā€™s losing focus again; he shakes his head to clear it. His legs feel sluggish too, after the long journey and the.. ā€˜Getting lostā€™. They stumble as he takes another step.Ā 
After such a long day. After getting hurt, and dragged around, and everything else thatā€™s happened, heā€™s just so tired.Ā 
Just like during the sacrifice, he has to focus on the real priority - and right now? Itā€™s not the immortal, insane demon god.Ā 
With a weary sigh, Dipper looks for a place to sit down.Ā 
Even pulling the chair out from the desk seems like an ordeal. And while the bedā€™s far too large for just one person, it's here and empty. Presumably Dipperā€™s meant to use it, anyway.
And when he takes a seat, it doesnā€™t leap up to bite him. It doesnā€™t release any poisoned spikes when he tests the mattress with a quick press of the palm, or snap closed around him when rolls on top of the sheets. The blankets are smooth, without a hint of scratchiness.
Dipper breathes in, and lets it out slowly. He rubs a hand on the top blanket, patting it once or twice, before letting his eyes shut.
Itā€™s just. So, so soft.Ā 
Weirdly springy too, compared to his old cot. A mixture of sink and bounce, so that Dipper almost feels like heā€™ll get absorbed into it like jello, or get thrown out of it if he moves the wrong way.Ā 
Shifting his weight, Dipper frowns as he tucks the pillow under his head. How could anyone sleep on something like this? Itā€™s totally impossible.
----------------
Dipper wakes up with a damp pillow under his cheek, a slight headache in his temples, and a sore and aching wrist.Ā 
He rolls onto his side with a groan, moving to a drier section of pillow.Ā 
Great, he drooled in his sleep again. Super gross. Another reason that not having a tongue sucks.
Itā€™s warm in the room, though, and quiet. His head hurts, so he needs some water. And his wrist hurts, too. Which isnā€™t surprising after being sliced open.Ā 
Whatā€™s more surprising is that he actually managed to get some rest afterwards. The whole compound is full of people celebrating or arguing after a ritual goes down. Usually thereā€™s some of both, but right now itā€™s so quiet that he could swear nobodyā€™s -
With a snort, Dipper jerks his head up off the pillow. He props himself up on his elbow, rubbing at his eyes.
Shit, of course. Heā€™s not in the compound anymore.Ā 
Nobody is around, because heā€™s been taken away by their literal goddamned god, and stowed in this too-big, too-normal room in this alien place. Without other worshipers, who wouldā€¦ probably make things worse, if heā€™s being honest.
Dipper stuck here, fending for himself. Heā€™s been subjected toā€¦ minor medical attention. And a nice bed, and a drink. Not to mention having his first uninterrupted nap in ages.Ā 
Thinking about it, itā€™s kinda hard to see a downside.Ā 
One will make itself known eventually. Dipperā€™s not so naive as to think this is altruism, not from Bill Cipher.
As he sits up, the blankets fall off him and pool into his lap, heavy and soft. For a moment, heā€™s tempted to pull them back up and curl into the nice, warm bed, under the gentle covers.
But thatā€™s probably not the best idea, considering.Ā 
God, he canā€™t believe he just fell asleep like that. In the house of a nightmare demon, Dipper just went and dropped off like a total, vulnerable moron.
And shit, itā€™s dark in here.Ā 
He doesnā€™t remember turning off the lights. Or where the lightswitch is, for that matter. He can sort-of make out the furniture around him, some kind of ambient illumination, perhaps. A bit of light also shines out from the closed door leading to Billā€™s room.Ā 
Somewhere in there, he hears footsteps, and then silence. The feel of that powerful magic, leaking in like the light under the doorframe.
Dipper fiddles with the edge of the blanket. Some kind of quilt, he guesses, one thatā€™s faintly frayed at the edges. Itā€™s very soft.Ā 
At minimum, heā€™s been in Billā€™s house for several hours. His best guess puts it between half to all of a day, depending on how long he slept.Ā 
Despite all Dipperā€™s learned about the godā€™s unavoidable wrath, and his infinite, changeable whims -
It hasnā€™t been too bad. So far.
Dipper rubs his fingers together, leg jogging under the sheets. Eventually he realizes heā€™s pulling threads out of the quilt, and hisses through his teeth.Ā 
At some point, the other shoe will drop. Bill Cipher is capricious, his favor doubly so.
And nothing ever works out in Dipperā€™s favor, not even once.Ā 
But maybe, if he works at it now - he might be able to make some headway. Hiding away in the bedroom wonā€™t help with that.
Getting up out of the bed is an effort, but his legs feel steady on the floor and his vision is clear. Dipper takes a deep, calming breath. He turns the knob, and peeks out into the roomĀ 
ā€œHey hey! Look whoā€™s back in the waking world. In a way.ā€ Bill waves at him with a bright grin. Great, Dipper got spotted basically instantly. ā€œGet over here! I need ya to check this out.ā€
There it is. His first order.Ā 
Dipper shuts his eyes, and walks into the room. He swallows, and drops into the fist form of ritual bow, knees thumping on the carpet.Ā 
This absolutely sucks. The one minor upside is that there is a carpet; Dipperā€™s not going to ruin his knees if he has to do this ten times a day.
Hanging around a god, heā€™ll be lucky if he spends any time not bowing and scraping and generally genuflecting. Though the idea makes him burn inside, he grits his teeth.Ā 
He can cope. Heā€™s been through worse. If nothing else, Billā€™s more interesting than the daily grind back at the compound. Albeit in a semi-terrifying way.
ā€œHuh.ā€ Bill says. Dipper mentally checks his posture, but no, itā€™s perfect. Wait - he forgot to press his hands together, right.Ā 
ā€œHuh.ā€ Bill says, this time soundingā€¦Ā 
Not very thrilled.Ā 
Freezing in place, Dipper runs through his options. In a better world, heā€™d be able to start doing some chant or whatever, but thatā€™s off the table. A quick peek at Bill shows that heā€™s not impressed, so. Read that right.Ā 
Also not very good. What else is there, though, what can he -Ā 
A long, heavy sigh interrupts his thoughts. Billā€™s started rubbing at the bridge of his nose.Ā 
ā€œYeah, yeah, I get it. A totally devout kinda guy.ā€ Billā€™s voice is very dry. He taps one impatient finger on the table. ā€œReally feeling all the religious passion, here.ā€
The clear sarcasm makes Dipper wince. God, of course Bill isnā€™t fooled. Seeing into the hearts and minds of men as he does, one small human is transparent as hell. He knows exactly what Dipper thinks of him, doesnā€™t he.
Shit, heā€™s likely seen everything.Ā 
ā€œBut sure, if youā€™re so devoted, you should get up already.ā€ Billā€™s tone lightens, and he gives a quick beckoning gesture. That eternal smile bounces back into place. ā€œCā€™mon, kid. You canā€™t scrape your nose on the carpet and check out what I asked you to.ā€
Dipper scrambles to his feet, brushing nonexistent dirt off his pants. Itā€™s a decent excuse not to meet the godā€™s eye.
He shuffles slowly forward until he stands next to the god. Logically that should make him nervous. He should be sweating and terrified -Ā 
But damn it, Dipper really hates genuflecting, and Billā€™s total lack of interest is actually, maybe, kind of cool of him.
For a bright moment Dipper thinks there might not be any of that sort of thing,Ā  until a robe flops to the ground in front of him.Ā 
Ah. A not-very-subtle hint, there. Dipper takes a breath to steady himself -Ā 
Then a second robe right on top of the one on the ground. And a third. A fourth follows that nearly hits a cabinet on the wall, and Dipper decides he probably missed the mark.Ā 
Billā€™s not making a point. Heā€™s just messy.
ā€œJeez, with this many robes, youā€™d think they could make a few of ā€˜em fashionable.ā€ Bill lets out a low whistle. When Dipper glances over, heā€™s rifling through those cardboard boxes with a frown. ā€œAccessorize! Embroider! Stain ā€˜em with ichor! This crap is just boring.ā€
All their robes were pretty identical, but that was the point. To lose oneā€™s individuality, and become a perfect servant for the god. Bill doesnā€™t sound as appreciative as he should be.Ā 
And where the hell did he get all of these, anyway?Ā 
The boxes on the table are dilapidated, reused cardboard. None of it matches the style or the reality of thisā€¦ apartment? House? Something?Ā 
Bill chucks yet another robe over his shoulder with a snort. ā€œAnd donā€™t get me started on the shape. Or the color!ā€ He sticks his tongue out, letting a final robe dangle from his fingers like heā€™s holding a dead rat. ā€œI woulda picked something way cooler.ā€
Whatever his definition of ā€˜coolerā€™ is, Dipper doesnā€™t want to know. Bill catches his skeptical look and Dipper quickly tamps it down.
That single golden eye blinks, then he beckons Dipper closer with a grin. ā€œGet over here, sapling. I gotta know if weā€™re dealing with the full inventory or not.ā€
There goes Bill, again. Talking about something without giving Dipper any context for it whatsoever. Likely thatā€™s a sign of things to come.Ā 
All the books about Bill Cipher say heā€™s ā€˜crypticā€™. Now Dipperā€™s wondering if that was supposed to be a euphemism for ā€˜annoyingā€™.Ā 
Dipper squeezes his hands tight at his sides. Not the kind of thing he should be thinking. Instead, he nods, and checks the boxes as requested.Ā 
His god continues messing with the contents, plucking out this and that. Another robe, discarded easily. He sets aside a small ritual set of candles, a setting for ritual offerings. All very distinct. They could have come from Dipperā€™s own congregation, theyā€™re so familiar.Ā 
Wait - but they are.Ā 
He remembers Bill asking them to pack up stuff, distantly. He didnā€™t think about what it was for, other than, like, another weird god request.Ā 
But these arenā€™t just anyoneā€™s things.Ā 
No, he recognizes that robe, with the chewed-on sleeve, and that set of trinkets. Hell, all of said robes have similar wear and tear, the same, slightly oversized look.Ā 
Dipper glances at the boxes, then back to Bill. Though he canā€™t speak to ask the question, it must be obvious in his face.
ā€œYep! This is your stuff, Pine Tree.ā€ Bill points a finger gun, giving Dipper a wink. ā€œI asked those imbeciles back in your cult to grab it for ya. Since youā€™re staying here with me, and all.ā€
Dipperā€™s mouth works, but no sound comes out; he shuts it quickly. Bill, uncaring, flicks a finger at a candle and watches it light with a smirk.Ā 
He just- Said it.
Bill Cipher himself called his religion a ā€˜cultā€™.Ā 
He actually admitted it. Under any other circumstances that would be absolute blasphemy, but the ā€˜godā€™ himself just casually tossed out that the entire stupid religion is kinda full of it and he isnā€™t even bothered by it.Ā 
Dipper wants to sit down, but there's no chair nearby. He braces himself on the table instead.
ā€œDonā€™t get it wrong, Iā€™m still the biggest, baddest being youā€™ll ever meet! But your group of losers pretended to speak for me.ā€ Bill continues. Something about Dipperā€™s shock seems to have caught his attention. He throws his arms in the air in disgust. A carelessly held candelabra goes flying. ā€œWhen I wanna give orders, I handle that crap myself.ā€
Dipper nods again, kind of numbly.
Yeah, that - that actually tracks. The gap between the Bill he was told about, and the Bill that is, is too vast to be ignored.Ā 
Obviously Billā€™s weird, itā€™s part of his basic makeup - but if anything, he matches up more with the Bill that Dipper read about in forbidden texts, instead of the one heard at every sermon. And thatā€¦
Honestly, it feels pretty good. Being right. Or right-adjacent; Dipperā€™s not naive enough to think he has the whole picture yet. Still, being more correct than anyone else? Makes Dipper almost smile.Ā 
Itā€™ll get clearer. Thereā€™s time, heā€™s not dead yet.Ā 
And who the hell knows what else Dipperā€™s going to learn, while heā€™s staying in Billā€™s home. The only thing he can predict is that half the things will come totally out of left field.
A nudge on his side catches his attention again. ā€œSo! Does this cover everything, or do I gotta nightmare some guys into coughing up the rest?ā€ Bill twirls a thin candle between his fingers idly, and raises an eyebrow. ā€œAnything you wanna keep, or stuff you wanna obliterate?ā€
The startled look on Dipperā€™s face must surprise him, because Bill blinks a few times. ā€œWhat? Itā€™s your crap, sapling.ā€ He offers a half-bow, and a wink. ā€œYour gracious host here, at your service.ā€
Wow, uh, that - Dipper has to turn away for a moment. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling oddly -
Damn it, getting distracted is bad. He has to shape up. Bill might decide heā€™ll be less gracious if Dipper doesnā€™t freakinā€™ focus, nowā€™s not the time to look incompetent.Ā 
He offers Bill a shrug, and a noncommittal wave, then tilts the closest box towards himself.
If heā€™s going to figure out what to do with his things, he might as well check whatā€™s shown up. A part of Dipperā€™s surprised that thereā€™s this much of it.Ā 
Actually... there's that miniature altar that ā€˜disappearedā€™, and a pair of shoes that walked off by themselves. A scattering of little baubles, mostly bare-bones ritual stuff that everyone got handed out. Even though Dipperā€™s seemed to roll down a grate or get flushed somehow.Ā 
Guess Billā€™s order really got people motivated to find his things. Thereā€™s stuff here that hasnā€™t made an appearance in ages.
Nearby, Billā€™s put on his expectant look again. Dipperā€™s getting used to it.Ā 
Whatever Billā€™s looking for, he hasnā€™t bothered to explain it in the slightest. Much like every other interaction with the guy. It must be pretty good though, because thereā€™s a tinge of eagerness to his expression.
Dipper turns away to poke at the items on the table.
He almost feels bad that he doesnā€™t know what Billā€™s looking for. Even though thereā€™s no logical reason he should. Mind-reading is Billā€™s thing, not his followersā€™.Ā 
Well, whatever. Bill can put that face on all he likes. Unless he has a few helpful hints on hand, heā€™s just gonna have to wait.
As for the possessions - A quick evaluation of the first box of stuff revealsā€¦ mostly things he doesnā€™t care about either way. On the other hand, heā€™s never had this many things before, and it would feel weird to just. Dispose of them this easily.Ā 
But then againā€¦Ā 
He never has liked the robes.
Tentatively, Dipper points at the cloth on the floor, then cuts a finger over his throat.Ā 
Bill made his opinion on them clear, so. If he agrees. Maybe Dipper actually wonā€™t need them during his stay in this -Ā Ā 
A sudden burst of blue flame startles him; Dipper jumps in place, going tense.
Noted - be careful about inviting Bill to destruction, because he does not hesitate.
ā€œGreat!ā€ Bill claps his hands together, rubbing them vigorously. ā€œHalf done - now letā€™s wrap this up and move onto something more fun.ā€
Patience must not be Billā€™s strong suit, because he turns the boxes upside down, dumping everything out on the table. A few broad swipes spread it over the wood, a careless tumble of whatā€™s, honestly, mostly junk.
Some of it was clearly just tossed in to make the box more full; the top layer is all stuff from the ritual room. As for the stuff that is his, well. How much of it could he actually need? Thereā€™s candles, a bunch of knickknacks that he didnā€™t even like when he was still in the, well. Cult. Thereā€™s a thick worn notebook, and his journal with its slightly tattered cover and the bookmark still in place -
Shit. Shit, shit shit.Ā 
Dipperā€™s heart leaps into his throat. He glances at Bill, then back to the table.Ā 
How did they find that, it was under the loose rock in the corner. Did they know all this time that he had this. Did they not care, or was it truly hidden and only discovered later. How the hell did it survive all the way here?Ā 
However it got here - thatā€™s. All his notes, all his research. All his thoughts, lying there for Bill to -
Wait. Bill.Ā  Hasnā€™t noticed, yet.Ā 
Heā€™s picked up a tiny brass necklace. His eye narrows as it dangles from his fingers. Not surprising; it is a pretty awful portrayal. The angles are anything but even.Ā 
And while heā€™s distracted, Dipper makes a grab for the books.Ā 
He times it right; as Bill tosses the necklace away and into the fireplace, he slides both books across the table, tucking them into his pants and under his shirt.Ā 
Not the first time heā€™s hidden contraband - and probably not the last. A quick check on Bill shows a totally nonchalant demon, slightly bored with the junk in front of him. Either he truly didnā€™t notice - or doesnā€™t care about what Dipper pulled. Either oneā€™s a win.Ā 
Dipper feels tension seep out of his shoulders, and he shuts his eyes.
Compared to the god of fury and torture Dipper was taught about, the true god is relatively even-tempered. So far.Ā 
But he already knows how bad it gets, when something terrible is spoken about his god. Thereā€™s no way Bill would like reading what Dipper wrote about him.Ā 
ā€œAha!ā€ Bill exclaims, and yanks his latest prize out of the pile, holding it in the air. ā€œKnew there had to be something good in here.ā€
Dipper takes one look at whateverā€™s got Bill so enamored -Ā  and makes a face.
Oh no. He forgot aboutā€¦. that.Ā 
ā€œMaybe being ā€˜devoutā€™ isnā€™t your style, but there might be a better term.ā€ Billā€™s sharp teeth are white in his smile. He flicks one of the ragged felt arms, squeezing the yellow ā€˜torsoā€™. ā€œHowā€™s ā€˜obsessedā€™ fit ya?ā€
The stupid awful Bill Cipher plushie dangles limply in his grip. As Bill gives it another squeeze, some more of the stuffing puffs out. Worn as it already is, with one of the legs missing and the pupil in the eye worn away, it makes the entire thing look twice as pathetic.
Dipper staunchly resists the urge to hide under the table. Itā€™s too late anyway. Heā€™s not escaping this now.
Who the hell decided to pack that? Itā€™s ugly and stupid and juvenile. If Dipper had been able to choose what he brought along, he would have deliberately left it behind. Maybe burned it, so nobody else would know he still had one.
As it stands, heā€™s torn between being glad itā€™s here - and totally goddamned humiliated.
He makes a quick grab for it, but Bill dodges him with a grin.Ā 
ā€œAh ah ah! Nice try.ā€ He waggles it again, beaming bright. ā€œI knew it! Youā€™re super interested in me, arenā€™t you? Was this little guy your favorite? Didja cuddle up with him in bed every night?ā€
Asshole probably saw all of that happen, and now heā€™s taunting. Dipper grits his teeth, hands clenching by his sides.Ā 
Damn it, itā€™s not Dipperā€™s fault there werenā€™t a lot of soft things in the cult. Who cares if he had something that made his life suck a little less? Especially one that flatters Bill himself. If anything Bill should be pleased, knowing he got some devotion from this less-than-pious human-Ā  but instead heā€™s being an ass about it.
ā€œIā€™m right, of course.ā€ Bill says, with smug certainty. ā€œOlā€™ mini-me here got oodles of affection, didnā€™t he?ā€ He rubs his chin thoughtfully, backing up as Dipper turns around the table corner in pursuit. ā€œNow letā€™s seeā€¦ā€
Dipper sucks in a breath, watching Bill bring it to his face. His teeth bared in a sharp smile, mouth slightly open.Ā 
Bill shuts his eye, and puffs a breath over the plush. For a second Dipper thinks itā€™s about to be consumed in fire, he stumbles forward in protest.Ā 
But though itā€™s blue all over, it doesnā€™t burn. As he watches, the hole in the side closes over, stuffing concealed. Some of the minor stains come out, the stitching of the bricks turns black and pristine. The second leg dangles beside the other, the eye is full and renewed and only maybe blinks.
Dipper stops his chase, pausing with his hand on the table.Ā 
That plush hasnā€™t looked anywhere near that good since he was little. Bill acted like it was nothing to him. Bill thought it was funny. He could have turned it into nothing, just for kicks - and itā€™s.Ā 
Every time he thinks he knows what Bill Cipher is up to, his expectations get turned upside down and shaken for loose change. Dipper doesnā€™t think heā€™ll ever get used to it.
Bill looks over his work with pride, picking up one of the arms to shake it. ā€œNice to meet ya, Bill! Iā€™m the real, better Bill.ā€ He pauses, then nods solemnly, as if it responded. ā€œYeah, I am the greatest. Glad you noticed!ā€
And in a stunningly unsurprising turn of events, Billā€™s also going to be obnoxious about this.Ā 
Bill brings the plushie right up to Dipperā€™s face, pitching his voice higher. ā€œOooh, Pine Tree, Iā€™m so glad to see ya! Youā€™re my favorite human.ā€ He lifts the felt arms in a floppy invitation for a hug. ā€œI love you sooooo much!ā€
Dipper feels his lips draw into a thin line, while Billā€™s mouth arches up in a grin.Ā 
ā€œWhatā€™s that?ā€ Bill cups his ear as if to hear better. ā€œYou want a kiss?ā€ Dipper shakes his head, but not before Bill starts mashing the stupid plush against his cheeks. He tries fending it off, but Billā€™s quick enough to find every gap in his defenses. Also, heā€™s making exaggerated kissy sounds. ā€œMwah mwah mwah!ā€
Dipper snatches the stupid plush from Billā€™s stupid hand, then turns right on his heel and storms back to the guest room.Ā 
Behind him, he hears Bill cackling with laughter.
He knew he was in for some kind of trial. A type of torment. What heā€™s faced so far hasnā€™t been terrible. Or much at all, compared to when he was back with the congregation.Ā 
This god isnā€™t quite the creature of eternal nightmares and torment that he was always told about. Instead he has other motives, ones too strange and subtle to interpret. Dipper should be thankful.
A glance backward shows said god slumped on the couch, cackling to himself with one hand on his forehead.Ā 
But Bill sure thinks heā€™s fucking hilarious.
Dipper slams the door shut, as loud as he can. It doesnā€™t quite block out the continuing laughter. He slumps against the door, letting out a long, tired sigh.
Great. He doesnā€™t know what else he expected.
Bill Cipherā€™s a total asshole.
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revumajiosu Ā· 9 months ago
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Wow lol Baaulp is looking different than I remember from last t-
oh thats not baaulp
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adobodemon Ā· 2 years ago
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She finally addressed the visuals. But at what cost... cr. themegamega on IG
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starofhisheart Ā· 2 years ago
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"You should be addicted to shutting the fuck up"
"You want to fuck me so bad it makes u look stupid"
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hedonistbyheart Ā· 6 months ago
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Listen, Novik, I greatly appreciate you naming a singular homosexual in your 7th volume of this series, but I gotta say, you could have implied it just a little bit beforehand. I love the guy, but despite my otherwise impeccable skill at picking this stuff up, I had no freaking clue.
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epicdogymoment Ā· 16 days ago
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omg. emma sidi in the hotdog suit. and alex is in fact right. she DOESNT look that much different
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calamitoustales Ā· 2 years ago
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#i thought this was porn for altogether too far down the gif set Wait, youā€™re saying itā€™s not?
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Weā€™ll wait right here and weā€™ll, I donā€™t know, shoot the courier when he comes out.
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stanleyoff7th Ā· 3 months ago
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another difference between the nhl and mlb that ive noticed is that when they call a prospect up in hockey it's usually a guy you've spent like years anticipating or at least vaguely aware of, meanwhile in baseball they tell you "today we're calling up zebby matthews, the fastest rising pitching prospect in the sport" and you're like "who and also, what"
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middlenamesage Ā· 1 month ago
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šŸŒ›That feeling of success when the Moon is doing its monthly or couple monthly (depending on the aspect) difficult round with a slower moving planet that itā€™s been interacting with in those annoying ways significant to your chart for monthsā€¦ but, hold up šŸ§ you canā€™t even tell this time! šŸ˜Œ
Astrology can bring proof of emotional healing progress. ā¤ļøā€šŸ©¹
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xamaxenta Ā· 1 year ago
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Ppl are like o no luffys lifespan (impel down, gear 2, gear 4)
What if gear 5 revitalised it considering he technically died to achieve the awakening
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auntiezelda Ā· 11 months ago
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Doing a little rewatch of the second season and I just was watching Zelda's wedding, and I am loving the family crest banners up in the church. I mean just look:
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liverpool-enjoyer Ā· 1 year ago
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(https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM2PtaM7Q/) sorry to say I just found out itā€™s not actually Mo šŸ˜­šŸ˜­šŸ˜­ looks a lot like him tho šŸ‘ØšŸ¾ā€šŸ¦¼
im not even gonna lie i woulda fully believed that was him if you hadnt told me
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